Love is poison. A sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same.

Love is an appetite which, like all other appetites, is destroyed for the moment by its gratification.

To Love no more my vows I'll bring, </br> For Love is such a dangerous thing; </br> There's poison hid in every dart, </br> And canker-worms in every heart, </br> Where Love doth dwell.

Love is easily killed.

Love is something so ugly that the human race would die out if lovers could see what they were doing

If love is a sin, then beauty is a crime

For love is no part of the dreamworld. Love belongs to Desire, and Desire is always cruel.

Love is just another dirty lie. Love is ergoapiol pills to make me come around because you were afraid to have a baby. Love is quinine and quinine and quinine until I'm deaf with it. Love is that dirty aborting horror that you took me to. Love is my insides all messed up. It's half catheters and half whirling douches. I know about love. Love always hangs up behind the bathroom door. It smells like lysol. To hell with love. Love is making me happy and then going off to sleep with your mouth open while I lie awake all night afraid to say my prayers even because I know I have no right to anymore. Love is all the dirty little tricks you taught me that you probably got out of some book. All right. I'm through with you and I'm through with love.

Son, you're probably too young to look for wisdom in anyone's words but your own, but I'll tell you this: love is the enemy... Yes. The poets continually and sometimes willfully mistake love. Love is the old slaughterer. Love is not blind. Love is a cannibal with extremely acute vision. Love is insectile; it is always hungry.
When asked what love eats:
Friendship. It eats friendship.

Take away love and our earth is a tomb.

[P]ride has no intrinsic substance, being no more than the name given to the soul devouring itself. When that loathsome perversion of love has borne its fruit, it has another, more meaningful and weightier name. We call it hatred.

love is profane, since it mortally reaches toward the heaven in ye!

Take away love, and our earth is a tomb!

So much of the language of love was like that: you devoured someone with your eyes, you drank in the sight of him, you swallowed him whole. Love was substance, broken down and beating through your bloodstream.